Re: [WAR X] WAR X RP - The Circle of Life and Death [RP]
Affected RPers: None
Upon reaching Fort Aer, Sovereign was contacted by the Architects. They wanted to meet with him in a private audience chamber deep in the bowels of the flying fortress. Sovereign found this to be quite odd; normally any communication between Armada vessels and the Architects took place via wireless signals. Audience chambers were rooms where there were interfaces installed to allow humans to communicate with the Architects.
With a slightly piqued curiosity, or at least as piqued a curiosity of someone as emotionally dead as Sovereign could be, his avatar entered the audience chamber, alone. The room was fairly small and dark. A single dim lamp hung from the ceiling. Like most of the architecture on Fort Aer, the walls were decorated with flowing patterns of lines etched into the surface. Aer was a fortress, of course, but the Lifemaker had believed that aesthetics were important enough to include in the mundane utility of war. As the door closed behind Sovereign's avatar, he walked forward to the interface console. The input consisted of a microphone and a crude mechanical keyboard. There were printers and a magically-powered display screen for output.
"What did you want me for?" Sovereign asked, his voice echoing in the small chamber.
"We have a request of you," the cold, mechanical voice of an Architect replied.
Sovereign tilted his head to the side. "A request?"
"Recently acquired information has allowed us to deduce the existence of a book written by the Lifemaker. We believe that the book contains information about his life as well as the Nether Gods."
Sovereign blinked. The Lifemaker had written a book? This was the first he had heard of such a thing. "But what does this have to do with me?"
"The book is most probably located within the Lifemaker's personal chambers inside his palace at Lamentur Vail. We would like you to retrieve it and bring it back to Fort Aer for study."
"That's a suicide mission," Sovereign replied without hesitation. "Nothing has ever returned from the Necropolis. You know this as well as I do that what you ask is impossible. Why ask?"
"Ah," said the Architect, and to Sovereign's astonishment, there was a hint of amusement in its voice. "There was a time when you would hear the word 'impossible' and laugh. Have you forgotten? Did you not successfully defend Fort Exer, fighting against all reason to hold out until reinforcements could arrive to push back the Fourth Fleet when everyone was certain you were going to die? Did you not destroy the supercarrier Hammer of Fate with only a a tiny picket force of three frigates when everyone told you that it was impossible? Did you not survive having your soul ripped out of your body in an experimental procedure that we assured you was suicide so that our mages could perfect the technique for the other pilots and captains of the Armada? Did you not rout the gathered armada of the Redeemers outnumbered ten to one in a battle so hopeless that your best friend refused to fight it? Did you not enjoy telling him 'I told you so' over and over again for weeks afterwards? And were you not the commander of the first flotilla to claim victory in any battle against the Wave, putting your trust in a young woman that you had just met in a move so insane that some had made a statue in commemoration of your sacrifice before you had even left? And did you, or did you not, descend into the depths of Morrigu Barro yourself, with a powerless and fragile human body, to support the Wavebreaker in a battle she could not hope to have won without you? Have you forgotten who you are? Wake up from your langour of seven hundred years, Sovereign, and remember the insane, intelligent, and incredible man you once were."
For the first time that Sovereign could remember, he was speechless. He had never heard an Architect speak with such... motivation. It was a long time before he could say anything again.
"My chances of success are..."
"Zero percent," the Architect helpfully finished. "But probability has never seemed to apply to you."
Sovereign shook his head and looked at the ground. "Is that how you really think of me?"
"You are a remarkable human, Edorath Ameil. We will never forget what you have done for us, for the world, even if others do, even if you yourself do."
Sovereign sighed. When he looked back up, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. "Very well then. I accept. But I will need to assemble a team. The best of the best. And I want full access to everything in the weapons storage." He briefly thought for a moment. "I'll want the Gravedigger. And my old blades. Shine them up for me, will you?"
Sovereign turned around and started to walk away. He wasn't halfway across the room when another question popped into his head. "What does this book mean to you?"
"It could be the key."
"The key to what?"
The Order of the Red Circle
Affected RPers: None
Mered quivered with anticipation as the great double doors of the throne room shook open. From her position next to the throne she could see the face of each and every knight in the long procession that entered. And at its head was the Lord Marshall himself.
He was a big man, tall, dark, attractive, a short-cropped head of black hair and a sharp face. He wore glamorous armor, intensely ornate with red and silver patterns so fine they had to be seen under a magnifying scope. He projected an aura of command that dominated the environment, an air of utter confidence and assurance. As his eyes; a piercing gaze that made Mered felt the Lord Marshall could see into her very soul, and every sin and ill thought she had ever committed.
"Lord Marshall," she said, bent down on one knee as he approached the throne.
The Lord Marshall smiled--a self-assured, charismatic upturning of the lips that made Mered's heart race. "Rise, General. What news do you bring me?"
Mered swiftly straightened her legs and stood tall. Her eyes met her commander's, and she suppressed a shiver. It would not do to show hesitation or fear before the master of the Order. "The machine rose from Saffron just as you prophesied," Mered reported. "We successfully sealed it with the aid of two Armada vessels and several mages, including a team from Venefinia. We have brought it back to Itum as you commanded."
"Very good, Mered," the Lord Marshall commended, and the Knight-General felt her chest swell with pride.
"Sir," Mered said.
"Was your quest successful?"
The head of the Knights smiled lazily. "Worried about me, Mered? Fear not. My descent into the heart of Morrigu Barro was flawless. It is a dead place, void of any life or danger to those who are strong enough to resist the Call. And I recovered exactly what I was looking for."
He waved to an attendant, who brought forth a small decorated box and opened it. On the plush interior was a small, black gem, about the size and shape of an egg, framed in what appeared to be gold and silver. The Lord Marshall waved his hand again, and the attendant closed to box and returned to his position in the procession.
"The Despair Seed," the Lord Marshall whispered to Mered. "It shall, without question, save humanity. And the blood of ten thousand mages shall be the perfect chains with which to command it."
Dali: "I know what the picture should be ... We take a duck and put some dynamite in its derriere. When the duck explodes, I jump and you take the picture."
Halsman: "Don't forget that we are in America. We will be put in prison if we start exploding ducks."
Dali: "You're right. Let's take some cats and splash them with water."
Last edited by Lusankya; 08-10-2011 at 04:51 PM.